


The Star-Spangled Caboose

by DiqazonQueen



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Assplosives, Crack, I've really done it this time, National Assthem, hot shirtless doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 02:03:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiqazonQueen/pseuds/DiqazonQueen
Summary: Ban this, Donald.





	The Star-Spangled Caboose

“Guys! We have a new one!” Jesus announced. He was waiting outside Alexandria’s gates, accompanied by the stranger he just encountered while on a supply run. Rick opened the gate, and cautiously approached the new man.

“This is Ralph,” Jesus explained. “He’s been traveling on his own for a while. He wants to join us.”

Rick moved to give the man a pat-down, but Jesus stopped him.

“I did that already.” Jesus didn’t mention how it was obvious that the stranger was really into it. Most people would probably react the same way being frisked by Paul Rovia, though.

“I’m gonna have to ask you a few questions –” Rick started, but Ralph’s face was twitching like he was getting ready to blow up.

Siddiq and Michonne rushed out of the house, detecting that Rick was in danger. Their Spidey senses were tingling.

“Rick, no! It’s a trap!” they shouted to their man.

Sure enough, “Ralph” pulled a zipper that was hidden in his clothes, making it clear to everyone that his unassuming appearance was just a very convincing disguise. When it was removed, his true identity was unmistakable.

“I AM DONALD J TRUMP, THE FORTY-FIFTH PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!” he roared, blowing everyone’s hair back with his thunderous voice. Jesus ran for the hills, Iron Maiden style. Rick put his hands up in surrender.

“What do you want from us, Mister President?” he asked, sounding like Cindy Lou Who wondering why the Grinch was stealing the Christmas tree.

Trump reached out and snatched Rick up in a mammoth, sweaty, fat fist. “I SHOULD BE LEADING THIS PLACE, NOT YOU!” he screamed in Rick’s face, his jowls producing an overabundance of saliva that sprayed out with every word, his dripping, gaping maw looking like the entrance to Hell.

Rick, Michonne, and Siddiq were all drenched with Trump’s spit. Daryl had just shown up and was already soaked with the president’s saliva, too. It was the closest thing to a shower he’d had in a long time.

“You don’t have to do this,” Rick begged, Trump’s gargantuan fist clenched around his lean body so hard Rick feared his bones and organs would get crushed. Trump’s black beady eyes were looking at him hungrily, like he was thinking of swallowing Rick alive, or grabbing his pussy.

Just as Trump started to lift his fist, with Rick enclosed inside, to his drooling, ravenous, cavernous, McDonald’s-loving mouth, Siddiq unleashed his special talent. He tore his shirt right off his body, revealing his glistening caramel six-pack.

“Ban this, Donald!” he shouted as rays of sunshine reflected off of his abs and caused a huge display of sparkles to appear on his luscious Werther’s skin – John Dorie could probably just eat him up – until his whole body was engulfed by an intense, blinding light.

“That’s my butterscotch Edward Cullen!” Michonne gushed as Rick looked adoringly at Siddiq; the three of them truly had a better love story than Twilight. She and Rick were used to the powerful and blinding result of sunlight meeting Siddiq’s abs, but Trump could never have anticipated such an attack, and he dropped Rick in shock, his tiny beady eyes already burning from the glare.

Trump did briefly reconsider the travel ban, because Siddiq’s abs were really hot, but then his toupee blew right off his head without warning!

The source of the great blast that took Trump’s wig came from Daryl Dixon. The redneck, with his pants around his ankles, was shooting fireworks out of his ass at the president! Daryl’s caboose sang “The Star-Spangled Banner” as red, white, and blue fireworks exploded out of it, which was incredibly impressive because most people don’t have the vocal range to sing the national assthem, let alone the rectal range.

Trump decided to retreat. Daryl’s patriotic ass blasts and Siddiq’s sparkling six-pack were just too much for him. He lumbered away as quickly as his bloated body would allow him, but he was met by an unwelcome and all-too-familiar sight as soon as he was outside the gates.

Rick, Siddiq, Michonne, and Daryl made their way back to their house, happy that Trump was defeated. They were especially proud of Daryl and were going to reward him for his spectacular use of assplosives by letting him eat dinner at the table with them, just this once, instead of in his cupboard under the stairs.

Meanwhile, Trump was on his knees in front of his daddies, Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong-un.

“You told us you were going to make the zombie apocalypse great again,” Putin hissed in his thick Russian accent.

“And you failed,” Kim Jong-un added.

“You know the procedure,” Putin went on. “Bend over, show us your oval office.”

So Trump did, pulling his suit pants down so his daddies could see his big, pasty, jiggly, unwashed buttered ham of an ass.

“You are to yell ‘JOHN MCCAIN!’ each time you are spanked,” Kim Jong-un told him. Trump nodded, terrified.

_Smack_. “JOHN MCCAIN!”

_Smack_. “JOHN MCCAIN!”

_Smack_. “JOHN MCCAIN!”

The spanking went on for over an hour, right outside of Alexandria.

“Y’all hear something?” Daryl said finally.


End file.
